IT’S OFTEN BEEN PRACTICE TO SECRET AWAY A SONG AT THE END OF A CD. LET ONE RUN FOR AN UNDISCLOSED AMOUNT OF TIME AND SOMETHING UNANNOUNCED AND (DEPENDING ON THE ARTIST INVOLVED) OCCASIONALLY INTERESTING HAPPENS. FOR VILLAGERS IT SEEMS THAT UNDISCLOSED AMOUNT OF TIME IS TWO-AND-A-HALF YEARS, AND THE HIDDEN TRACK HAS ACTUALLY SPILLED OVER TO THE BEGINNING OF THE SECOND ALBUM.
Released next week, {AWAYLAND} pleasingly furthers 2010’s seemingly fully formed and self-contained debut BECOMING A JACKAL – though it begins with what could be a deliberate false start: MY LIGHTHOUSE.
Essentially it plays as Simon & Garfunkel’s BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER written from the point of view of a person on the receiving end of that song’s welcomes and kindnesses, and is lyrically poignant, beautifully sung. Sonically it’s a reassuring nod to Villagers’ previous encampment.
But it’s clearly positioned in the running order to wrongfoot. What immediately follows, and what comes over the remaining 40 minutes of {AWAYLAND}, is a relatively effortless expansion – and relatively challenging exploration – of the deeper dynamics surrounding Conor O’Brien’s songwriting.
“My vertebrate evolution – easy as ABC…” he sings over the grittily pulsing PASSING A MESSAGE, as he moves upright to the position of assured frontman in a fully committed band ready for its fight. Punching outwards from the singer-songwriter solitude standing in the middle of BECOMING A JACKAL, this approach certainly corroborates the position in the blue corner taken across that Mercury Prize nominated debut album, but it also sees a well-aimed swing of uplifting and fresh ideas from bandmates who have come windmilling in. “I don’t need to think for myself,” O’Brien sings on the excellent JUDGEMENT CALL.
{AWAYLAND} isn’t actually so different from what has gone before that it hurts (still lyrically melancholy and often strange, still melodically rather beautiful) and the occasional roughing up, the occasional bruising, ultimately proves quite rewarding.
Amidst all this it’s also, sometimes, surprisingly tender and warm. A yearning string section on the title track instrumental doodle – cousin to The Frames’ IN THE DEEP SHADE (from FOR THE BIRDS, 2001) – is utterly heartbreaking. Single NOTHING ARRIVED throws back to the first album and again references Simon & Garfunkel – melodically, vocally, lyrically.
Other single THE WAVES sounds almost entirely new. It dabbles with immersive and subdued electronica as it broods and bubbles with a something  just below the surface – though as the tide changes and it plays out to full band in full flow conclusion, it’s dangerously untethered and angry. Offered up in some dimly lit club this will be awash with a frightening intensity.
The album closes up with a feeling of release through floating piano-led ballad IN A NEWFOUND LAND YOU ARE FREE and the oddly delightful – and delightfully odd – RHYTHM COMPOSER (vaguely akin to something Julian Cope might have Heath Robinsoned up for his 1990 sketchpad collection DROOLIAN).
For all of its admirable exploration, the ghostlike quality of O’Brien’s songwriting anchors {AWAYLAND} somewhere rewardingly homely and familiar – yet repeated listening makes it difficult not to find oneself arrived at an entirely new place which surpasses Villagers’ debut.